


Destination Anywhere

by loveinisolation



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-04
Updated: 2013-05-04
Packaged: 2017-12-10 09:37:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/784579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveinisolation/pseuds/loveinisolation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adam and Sebastian meet on a train.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Destination Anywhere

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first time I've tried writing this pairing or writing Adam at all. It isn't quite true to how I think they would play off each other, but I'm not unhappy with it.

Train travel in America isn’t quite the same as traveling by train in England, but it’s a far sight more pleasant than the grungy busses that seem to be the mainstay of North American travel. Adam doesn’t particularly mind even the most cramped and dirty modes of transportation – he’ll curl up in the seat with his bag by his feet and manage to sleep just about anywhere, quite happy just to be on his way wherever he’s going.

The same clearly cannot be said of his seat mate.

The man – young, thin, attractive save for the scowl he wears continuously – has spent every moment of the trip so far looking miserable and glaring out the window. He hasn’t spared so much as a glance in Adam’s direction despite the fact that he’s looking  _past_ Adam to see out the window from his aisle seat.

Adam dozes on and off for the first couple of hours, watching the landscape change whenever he opens his eyes. He’s reading a battered copy of  _Lamb_  when the man gets up abruptly and wanders off down the aisle. When he returns, presumably from the dining car given the cup of coffee in his hand, he’s muttering in agitation. “What is it with this freaking country and it’s resistance to putting alcohol in coffee?”

Adam snorts a laugh. “Actually, I seem to recall a number of establishments willingly serving a delightful concoction called ‘Irish Coffee,’” Adam says, shooting the man a grin.

The man gives him a flat, unimpressed look paired with the slight downturn of his mouth, clearly not amused by Adam’s response. The pouting makes him resemble a temperamental child more than a grown man, and Adam can’t help but keep grinning at the image he makes.

“Yes. Well,” the man begins tersely, “neither local coffee shops nor this train seem inclined to. And at this moment I need nothing more than an injection of caffeine and alcohol.”

“And what exactly is it that has you needing such a thing at 10:30 in the morning?”

“Well, see, I’ve been up since five, and I’m trapped on this god awful train three hours into a seven hour train trip, and I’m seated next to a beanie-clad hipster who sounds like the love child of Elton John and a Muppet.”

Adam laughs, longer and louder than is maybe appropriate in the confined space of the train car. “Was that intended to offend me?”

The man grunts, arms crossed and scowl still firmly in place. Adam can tell he’s trying to be intimidating; he’s nearly growling in annoyance, and the image in Adam’s head shifts from “temperamental child” towards “angry puppy” with every little irritated huff.  He fights the urge to coo and scratch the man behind the ear until he rolls over and bares his belly in submission.

And  _oh_ , doesn’t that thought have the picture in Adam’s head veering rapidly towards the obscene. The image of this tightly wound man unraveling beneath him is appealing in a whole host of ways.

Adam isn’t usually one for quick and dirty fucking in the bathroom – and he certainly doesn’t take public transportation with the intention of doing such things – but there’s a spark in this man that could be fun to tempt out: to poke and prod until he snaps and uncoils.

“What’s your name, then?” Adam asks after a moment, deciding then and there to see where this might go.  

The man looks briefly startled by the question, but then his whole demeanor shifts back to haughty and detached. He holds out a hand and waits for Adam to grasp it before he speaks. “Sebastian Smythe.”

“Adam Crawford,” Adam tells him, letting his eyes flit intentionally over the man’s lean body. “It’s a pleasure.”

“Oh.” Adam sees the moment Sebastian catches his gaze on him, because his attention shifts immediately from bored to near predatory, one eyebrow raising challengingly. “I know it is,” Sebastian says, tongue curling purposefully around the syllables as he speaks.

Adam chuckles out a laugh. “Someone is rather confident.” Sebastian shrugs, eyes roving over Adam’s body. There’s a moment where they’re eyes meet, and that heat from earlier builds again, sparking between Adam’s grin and Sebastian’s responding smirk.

It may not be his usual habit, but something about this moment – about being out in the middle-country with the scenery ever-changing outside and that feeling of being everywhere at once but nowhere at all – makes Adam want to give whatever this is a chance. He wants to see where it goes and how it unfolds.

There’s a chance it won’t go anywhere beyond this moment; a chance it won’t go beyond Adam’s sunshine smile and the barbed version of flirting that Sebastian seems to employ, but that’s part of the fun.

Adam may not know quite how this will go. But he has four hours to find out. 


End file.
